


Albus and The Blanket

by LowkeyScrupious



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Harry and Albus bonding, starring background Teddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 22:04:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17568764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LowkeyScrupious/pseuds/LowkeyScrupious
Summary: Albus gets back home for the first time since returning from Godric's Hollow, and is confronted by his room, exactly as he'd left it - including the blanket that started it all.





	Albus and The Blanket

His mind was at odds with his body. His body was telling him he was safe; warm and cared for, under the influence of the comfy sofa he was currently sunken into, tucked away in a corner of the large Potter living room. His mind however, was still reeling from the events of the past… however long it had been. There were voices around him, he could make out the soft reassurances of his mother as she tended over Harry, backed up occasionally by the practical yet thoughtful suggestions coming from his godbrother Teddy’s sure and stable voice. In between these, the room was punctuated by an occasional painful sob, still, _still_ , finding its way out of his father. Albus wondered how long it would be before his dad regained some composure. He hoped not long – seeing him like this was starting to unsettle Albus. He needed his dad. He needed his mum too. Everyone in fact. With a desperate realisation of hopelessness, he realised that what he _actually_ needed was a lot more than just his dad to stop crying.

For the first time, he felt a stinging sensation behind his eyes.

_Hell no_ , he wasn’t about to break down in some undignified mess too. He’d been through too much to just let it all consume him like this, so suddenly. _No thank you_. Wanting to be alone, he got up, registering the familiar stiffness of his legs and back from where he’d slept last night, and a new, unfamiliar pain in his wrist. He’d probably strained it somehow. It didn’t make much difference to him now however, so he pushed himself up and headed to the peace and quiet of his room. Anything to get away from the sounds his dad was making.

Before he’d even made it to the doorway however, a blurred figure stepped in front of him.

“Where are _you_ going, Al?” Teddy’s concerned voice landed on him.

Albus couldn’t muster up any kind of emotional reaction to this, not even annoyance. He was too tired.

“To my _room_ , Ted. That okay?” He looked up fiercely at his brother’s eyes, wanting to show him that he really _was_ fine, he wasn’t about to go _fall apart_ , or something similarly stupid. Teddy appraised him worriedly, obviously wondering whether Albus was being as honest as he himself believed.

“You know, if you want to talk-” Teddy began, but he was cut off by an exasperated gruff from Albus, as the boy shoved his way around his brother and out of the room to the relative sanctuary of the hallway.

_Thanks, but no thanks, Teddy_ , Albus thought bitterly as he made his way up the staircase. He almost fell down again when a cold terror swept through him, as he realised that Delphi herself had stood on these very stairs. Taking the rest of them three at a time and removing his hand from the rail, he was hit abruptly with the confusing idea that maybe he wasn’t as okay as he’d made out, after all.

All he wanted was Scorpius. He wanted his best friend back at his side, where he knew he was safe. He needed to be able to _see_ Scorpius with his own eyes, to touch him and feel his presence, to know that he was okay. Albus recognised something else stirring uncomfortably in his mind – that there was also a more selfish reason for wanting his friend beside him. When Scorpius was with him, Albus was lighter, he was… freer? He could feel all his demons being chased away by the sheer light of Scorpius’s existence. Scorpius had been picking up after him their whole lives, constantly behind him, fixing whatever Albus had broken, including Albus himself. Albus simply needed Scorpius to exist. What he had witnessed Delphi do to him in that godforsaken maze would haunt Albus until the day he died. It should have been _him_. It always should have been him.  But no, Scorpius had been there too, taking the fall for Albus and his constant failings; even now bearing the brunt of all that Albus had managed to mess up. He would never, ever, forgive himself.

He thought all this as he crossed the landing to his room. The door was wide open, but Albus didn’t find this very inviting or welcoming – instead it conjured an image of how terrified and rushed out of their minds his parents would have been on the countless times he’d managed to go missing recently. Sighing with self-hatred he looked around the room, reminiscing that everything did, in fact, look exactly the same as he’d left it on that fateful night before returning to Hogwarts – how many days, weeks ago? Everything, including the discarded cream-coloured blanket that had started this all. That had sparked everything, and sent the already fraying threads of his life into an unwoven mess of time travel, trains and torture. He frowned as he noticed that parts of it seemed brown and crusty, and with a rush of unpleasant adrenaline he realised he’d almost forgotten that _of course_ the blanket was burned – he and Scorpius had stolen and written on it only yesterday. If his eyes weren’t so tired he’d have rolled them.

Gingerly, he picked up the tattered blanket and held it up against the light of the window, feeling the softness of the fabric between the rancid black holes traced in his own handwriting. What a metaphor it was, that something so pure and lovely previously, had been tainted and stained by his meddlings.

He looked at the words, appraising how his and Scorpius’s handiwork had turned out, and smiled as he remembered his best friend again. At that moment, he missed Scorpius more than he ever had before. More than any of their summers spent apart - more even than during the messed up timeline they had inadvertently created and he’d been banned by his own father from seeing him. His pain tore through his empty chest, it echoed and ricocheted off the chasm left behind when Scorpius took a part of him with him back to Malfoy Manor. It was suddenly so intense, so raw and unbearable that Albus’s knees buckled. He gripped the blanket tight, brought it so snug to his chest, breathing in the acrid smell. He hoped it might somehow be able to fill the hole, or at least ground him, and brought his head down to rest on the edge of his bed. He could have been praying.

At first he was quiet, but as the pain built, he couldn’t help the sobs escaping, through the blanket and fist he pressed over his mouth to keep the noise down, his whole body heaving with the loss and guilt and exhaustion and pain that he’d been repressing for so long now. He had never felt this way before, as though he wanted to escape his own skin, but the way was blocked by a curtain of suffering that kept him shut off entirely from the world, from anyone else who could possibly understand how he was feeling.

Suddenly uninvited hands were on him; he jumped so violently he almost toppled over sideways.

“Hey, hey it’s me! Albus?” his dad’s strong voice floated over his shoulder. “It’s okay, you’re okay…” he continued to chant as Albus felt himself relaxing, ever so slightly, into his arms.

“I’m sorry…” it felt important to apologise somehow.

“Shh, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for Albus,” his dad tried to convince him, even though it sounded more like a question.

“Yes. Yes, I do. I’m sorry for starting this whole thing, I’m sorry for running away, I’m sorry for stealing the Time Turner in the first place, for _breaking into the Ministry_ …” now that he was home and safe again the consequences of his actions were starting to plague him unpleasantly. “For falling into Delphi’s trap… I’m sorry for being a rubbish son…” he tried to add _for being a rubbish friend_ , too, but at that, Albus’s breath caught in his throat.

He hadn’t looked at his dad, not once since he’d come up behind him, crouched as he was against the bed, but Harry now pulled him round so they were looking each other in the eye. Albus hated the exposure that this brought, he felt embarrassed and stupid, with all his open wounds on display.

“You’re not a rubbish son, Albus. None of those things are true. Just like nothing that’s happened has been your fault. I’m the one who couldn’t see you properly, who couldn’t see what was happening to you. This is on me, Albus, and me alone.”

He gazed into his father’s intense stare, and for once, he could believe that his dad meant what he said. The revelation did nothing to make him feel better.

“How is this _your_ fault?” He frowned and found that he’d now managed to regain some level of facial composure. Furiously wiping his eyes, he continued. “I’m the one who stole the Time Turner, who got fooled by… _her_.”

“And _she_ ,” his dad mimicked Albus’s annunciation, “was a manipulative, cunning Dark witch. She used you the best way she knew how. Albus, you couldn’t have _not_ fallen for it. She was getting what she wanted one way or another. Anyone in your position would have acted the same.” Green eyes met green eyes, and it only now occurred to Albus that his dad’s tear streaks were gone, his face was clear, and set with concern for his son. “Trust me. Been there, done that.”

Albus couldn’t fathom anyone (especially his dad) really knowing how he felt. “Really?” he asked, trying (and failing miserably) to force out some bitterness.

Harry shook his head slightly, looking down and smiling in disbelief. Albus couldn’t help but feel like maybe he’d been very stupid. When his dad spoke, it was slow and purposeful.

“Al, my entire childhood was filled with moments like these. All that I went through – do you really think I could just brush it off after? For years, I was a mess of guilt. I know you’ve never believed that, but it’s true. I _still_ struggle with it. And Cedric – Cedric is just the tip of the iceberg. So many people… so many people got hurt because of me. You’ll never know your uncle Fred… my godfather Sirius… Teddy’s parents. Every time I look at him I see them. I think about it every day. And there were so many others. It haunts me, and it probably will until the day I die. But it wasn’t just their deaths that weighed on me, every time someone got hurt - Ron or Hermione - got hurt, I thought I could no longer take the responsibility – the fear that if anything happened to them, it would be my fault. And things _did_ happen to them; they both have their scars. Draco too. And they have to live with those for the rest of their lives. Can you honestly tell me I don’t know how you feel? I know _exactly_ how you feel.”

_Fuck_ , Albus cursed his eyes for brimming so fully with more unshed tears. Harry had paused, but Albus couldn’t say anything.

“It gets better son. Trust me. I know it feels _awful_ right now, and it will sometimes still creep up on you at night. But then the clarity comes. You can’t see it now, but you’ll realise eventually that Craig’s death is _not_ your fault. That what happened was tragic, and evil, and a direct result of something completely outside of your control.”

“Scorpius… what he went through…”

“Scorpius too. I know you never listen to me, but please, _please_ , I’m begging you to listen now. I think I am probably the most qualified person you could have to tell you this. _It’s not your fault_.”

Albus couldn’t help the small sob that choked its way out of his throat, and before he realised it he was doing something he couldn’t remember ever doing before. He leant forwards and let his head fall into his dad’s shoulder. Harry wrapped his arms around his son, and after a moment’s hesitation, Albus let him.


End file.
